The Fault In Our Factions
by Bugsyboo1313
Summary: "Because today, our own fate is decided. You'll know where you really belong, but that doesn't mean you should follow your results. Your test results." 16 year old John Watson is getting closer to Choosing Ceremony Day, where he must decide his own faith in one factions; Abnegation, Amity, Candor, Dauntless, or Erudite. John's POV. See inside for full summary. Please review.
1. Science & Faith

**The Fault In Our Factions (Chapter 1)**

Science & Faith

* * *

><p><strong>BBC Sherlock  Divergent / Hunger Games Crossover**

**Summary: **_A certain sixteen-year-old John Watson is getting closer to Choosing Ceremony Day, where he must decide his own faith in one of five factions; Abnegation, Amity, Candor, Dauntless, or Erudite. When in his new faction he meets a girl named Katniss Everdeen, possibly one of the fiercest females he's ever come across. A little side field trip takes them to the other factions where they meet trusty allies. When things go wrong, both John and Katniss must flee beyond the borders of the factions into unknown lands, taking a few helpful friends along with them on their journey._

Characters & Ages

_Sherlock Holmes (16), __John Watson (16), __Katniss Everdeen (16), __Mycroft Holmes, __Molly Hooper (16), __Gale Hawthorne (17), __Greg Lestrade (16), __Mary Morstan (16), __Jim Moriarty (16), __Sally Donovan (16), __Phillip Anderson (16), __Primrose Everdeen (10), __Harriet Watson (19)_

__***I do not own any of these fandoms. They rightfully belong to Mark Gatiss, Steven Moffat, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Veronica Roth, and Suzanne Collins. This story was written for entertainment purposes only.***__

* * *

>The door of my closet is a single panel that is made up of a mirror and a silver frame. The wheels squeak every time I slide the door to the right to extract my outfit for the day, as I've never bothered to fix it in my free time. I've never been fond of the wailing screech it gives off either; loud noises distract me and almost split my head open.<p><p>

My wardrobe consists of lots of plaid and comfy jeans, but the thing that stands out when you first open the door is the distinct colors of red and yellow. Our faction has chosen these colors to represent Amity, and we're actually one of the luckier factions. Abnegation has to wear grey all the time, but we can wear whatever we please as long as one of our colors is present at all times. That's no problem with me and my sense of fashion. Normally, I just wear my watch which is a dark shade of red, so that way I don't have to worry about clashing with my other colors on my clothing.

I have a favorite black jacket with two buttoned pockets across the chest area that I absolutely love, and it hangs securely on a hook on the left wall next to my collection of jumpers. Everything is on the left side of my closet, my dominant side, and for a male I'm not entirely sure how I am so neat and organized. My shirts are all hung up together, my pants folded in half over the hangers, and my two belts sit on the shelf I can just barely reach on my tiptoes.

I select my most familiar pair of jeans and a navy blue shirt. There are also two pockets stitched over my chest near the level of my heart, and to show my dedication to my faction I slip on a yellow wristband with tree leaves etched into the rubber surface. That's the symbol of Amity; a tree. Our faction values peace and friendships, and as we're reminded daily, our motto is, "Open arms, open eyes, forgiving hearts."

But sometimes, I feel like I've got to close my eyes, just to open my soul out to the world. Live and love.

I always dress in the far corner of my room so I'm as far from the window as possible, regardless if I have the blinds closed or not. We live in a fairly compacted area with lots of people going about with their usual business, and even though I trust almost everyone that I've come to know in my faction, I still deserve some privacy. Families in Amity tend to get together for a gathering every weekend for a feast; this tends to bring outsiders into the group and meet new faces. I enjoy them myself and have met a few kids who attend school with me, one being my best friend Mike Stamford.

Amity initiates do almost everything together. Dinner is eaten with everyone sitting around the table, and no one leaves until everyone is finished. We spend at least two hours a day with our families, and after I finish my homework in my room I like to chat with my mother in the kitchen while she makes a light snack for me to munch on. Our faction is responsible for the shipping of produce, so we usually receive the best foods first before the rest of the fresh ingredients are sent off to other places.

I just finish buttoning my shirt when the first sign of sunlight peers through the cracks in the blinds covering my window. I made sure when I rearranged my bedroom to make sure my mattress didn't come in contact with the light at all, as I never wanted to be disturbed by my sleep from blinding rays of heat. I make sure to leave some of the clasps open at the top of my shirt to show a slight outline of the red tank top I wear underneath. I have very little yellow in my clothing, but I figure a bracelet couldn't hurt that much. I bend my spine over and pick up my brown belt from the carpeted floor, hearing the buckle click against my thigh. Before slipping it into the loops in my pants, I slide my closet door shut to return it to its proper position.

A short, skinny boy of sixteen stares blankly back at me. In fact, I just turned sixteen not even three months ago. And today is the most important school day of my life. My blonde hair is specifically swept over the top of my skull, always parted in the exact same place and flattened as much as I can manage to press it down. Broad, muscular shoulders are pulled down and back confidently while strong arms hang by my sides. I stand with my feet a few inches apart, oddly turned out from a natural habit I've developed over the years. Cheeks with some remaining baby fat stick out from my pale skin, and a wider nose than most people is in the center of my face; I never liked the odd shape of it. I've gotten strange comments about how my facial complexion makes me resemble a hedgehog when I smile showing my teeth, but I never see it when I look in the mirror.

But the thing that stands out the most about me undeniably is my eyes. Nobody has irises like me. Deep blue with silver lining the pupils, they can express any sort of expression I need to without much effort. Sometimes, if I look closely, I can almost see ocean waves crashing in them. Or maybe when I'm in a dreamy state they'll be a sky blue galaxy containing thousands of stars that represent happiness and serve a job of sparking the twinkle in my eyes. Or perhaps when I'm angry, I'll spot flickering blue flames of a fire roaring up to flash a warning look at the person they're directed attention is on.

They're basically a blue tidal wave of a fire galaxy that I was blessed with the gift of being born with them. And you know what? I wouldn't trade them out for anything except for maybe a tint of mint green to add to their stunning painted appearance.

Anything.

My fingers fumble with my leather belt as I hook it through the loops. Then, securing it through the third hole at the front, I straighten up and stare back at myself in the glass. Everyone of the age of sixteen should be nervous today.

Because today, our own fate is decided. You'll know where you really belong, but that doesn't mean you should follow your results.

Your test results.

To be honest, you should go with your gut feeling. Just because some stupid test tells you where you should belong shouldn't mean you should be forced to choose another faction.

That's what I'm doing today. At school, all the sixteen-year-old teenagers will be tested through some sort of simulation to debate where our loyalties truly lie. There are five factions that the human race divided themselves into; five groups based on different personalities and beliefs so everyone could live in harmony and be run by a government. Abnegation, Amity, Candor, Dauntless, and Erudite. I've heard rumors that they're others as well, but if you're considered one of them you're basically a threat to society.

A mouse caught in a trap that you can't escape.

And once your results are exposed, _you _must decide who you really side with. The following day, we're all sent to the Choosing Ceremony to select our new and permanent homes. You can either choose to remain with your family or leave them behind. But if you switch factions, you hardly ever get to see them again.

Because of the saying, "Faction before blood."

I have an older sister who's nineteen named Harriet. I've asked for her interjections on the aptitude tests, but she's refused to say a word ever since I mentioned them. Supposedly you're not supposed to share your results with anyone or discuss how it went. She also went through the Choosing Ceremony process and chose Amity, so she remained loyal to her own faction.

I however, on the other hand, am not so sure about staying.

Not because of anything bad about my faction, but just because there are a lot of transfers every year. Some people think its betrayal if you switch out, but most people choose the right one based on where they believe they belong.

Where they'll fit in.

The door to my bedroom slowly pushes open as my mother knocks to enter. I don't bother to give my parents permission to come in, seeing as they always look after me and do whatever they need to in order to protect me. I'd trust them with anything. But my sister on the other hand, she's a different story. She's made some bad decisions lately.

My mother comes in with a sweet smile on her face and stares at me with care in her heart. She loves me so much, and so does my father for that matter. Her curly blonde hair comes down to her shoulders, and her blue-grey eyes are nothing compared to mine. I suppose I got both the blue-eyed genes from my parents when I was born, causing my irises to absorb all the color.

"Look at you. My boy, all grown up." I grin and stare at the floor in shame, my cheeks becoming hot and turning an alarming shade of pink.

"Mum, don't embarrass me," I point out, tucking four fingers on both my hands into my pants' pockets while I let my thumbs hang out.

"So, today is the day."

"Not quite," I correct her. "That's tomorrow. I think the Choosing Ceremony is more well-known."

She lifts her graceful hand up and runs her smooth nails over my cheekbone. Her touch is always warm and helps me calm down. "Are you nervous?" she asks, her hand falling to my collar bone.

"A little." I admit it because I don't want to say a false statement to my mother. "But, at least I'm not stressing or anything."

She tugs my arm and pulls me out into the hallway. "Come. I'll make you a good breakfast so you won't starve by the time it's all over and done with."

Just at the mention of the first meal of the day, I could already taste maple bacon in my mouth and scrambled eggs melting on my tongue. And just for good measure, I always wash it down with a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

Marshmallows included.

* * *

><p>On the way to school, I can't help but plug my nose from the gross smell the bus gives off. The pipe in the back of the vehicle gives off black smoke that puffs into deformed clouds and drifts away into the air. Such terrible damage to the environment.<p>

It's a good thing regardless of the chatter-filled ride that my stop is the last one, so I only have to stay seated for ten minutes before we reach the building. Hundreds of people stumble out of various modes of transportation, and I lean up against a pole to wait for the last students to show up before I head off inside.

The Dauntless children arrive in a train that zips by like a cheetah, and they're all crazy enough to jump out of the cars while their ride is still moving. Some I notice land on their feet, but others stumble like their drunk and do a face plant in the grass. I can't help but give off a snort as I turn to walk through the front doors.

My first class of the day is history, and I'm one of the lucky ones who doesn't have to sit next to an Erudite student who knows everything. They're such show offs. They'll spit out their knowledge about any subject with ease like their brains have a computer chip implanted in them. I suppose sitting next to a Dauntless kid is rough too. All they do is basically give you dirty looks and crack their knuckles for fun. I swear they'll all have fat finger by the time they're twenty. Almost all of them also have some sort of tattoo or ghastly piercing somewhere. Whether it's the eyebrow, nose, or normal ear piercing, they've got one somewhere.

I don't mind the Abnegation much, probably because they value other peoples' lives before their own. They're the selfless ones. You can spot them easily in a crowded hallway because they all wear grey clothing. The girl with red hair who sits next to me in my first period is from Abnegation, and she's one of the nicest people I've met. Her name's Molly and she's very shy.

And then there's Candor. They're okay as well, but because their open in opinion about _everything_, it can get obnoxious sometimes. Like one of the kids in my math class, all he does is criticize my clothing or writing style. There's nothing wrong with my writing; unless it's a stupid reason like the fact that I'm left-handed.

I turn the corner and nearly get smacked in the face by a backpack that belongs to an Erudite. The joy of having great reflexes is that I was able to block it easily. The one thing I make sure to check for damage is my journal. I've had a strange fixation with writing and tend to keep a record of the ridiculous events that happen in my life. I give each dedicated event a title, writing the date in the upper right corner and off I go. My imagination can roam free wherever it will take me.

I pass a girl on my left with long, brown hair that's pulled back in a braid. She's somehow managed to make it cross diagonally down her head and finish out lying casually over her right shoulder. Pretty sweet hairstyle, actually. She's dressed in almost all blue, and I can assume from her stance that she is from Erudite.

I walk alone to my class because none of my friends study the same subjects I do. But sometimes it's best to be alone. I huddle my textbooks into my ribs as the door of my classroom comes into view, and I dodge a group of Candor boys before slipping in through the crack and taking my seat near the middle of the room, located right next to the teacher's desk. Maps litter the walls and the last students jog to catch their classes before it's too late and the morning bell sounds.

I guess it's a good thing I have history first. It will take my mind off things.

Well, for now.


	2. Life Depends On It

**The Fault In Our Factions (Chapter 2)**

Life Depends On It

* * *

><p>I have only one pencil to use at school, and it has shrunk to about the size of three inches in length. The eraser connected to the end is chipped in multiple places, and its so covered in lead the color has faded to near black.<p>

I have to survive three classes and half the day before lunch. And just what I'm looking forward to is coming after I eat. My food tasted soggy and I had trouble swallowing. What was racing through my head was indefinable. The limited number of friends I had kept blabbering away about what they thought the tests would be like, but when they tried to get me to input my thoughts I just let off a strange groan or coughed. None of them seemed to notice the fact that I wasn't particularly interested in discussing them.

The faculty made us remain in the cafeteria after we'd finished chewing on our meals, and one by one names were called to be observed for the aptitude tests. There were five small offices where kids were being taken to, and depending on how long it took for them to finish, mostly four of them were occupied at once. Five students were originally missing from the dining area after the first round, but as time went by there were less and less teenagers.

By the normal standards, we were called into testing in alphabetical order, which meant I was one of the last few to go. My friend Mike Stamford left a good half hour before my turn, leaving me sitting alone on the bench to our lunch table. I wished him good luck and he strolled off towards the hallway, looking like he was prepared to take on anything.

I sat debating what I thought the tests would be like in my opinion. Paper and pencil and some stupid multiple choice questions? An art project? A verbal quiz?

My ideas were interrupted when I heard a lady announce my name to the rest of the room. "John Watson." I really don't want to go. I feel like I may just throw up at any minute, but I know once I get my results I don't have to follow them. Lots of kids transfer.

My feet lead me the the door to the office on the far left, which no one is using but I can spot an adult roaming around inside behind the crack in the doorway.

"Hi," she said semi-politely when I entered. "Please have a seat."

"Is this test hard?" I automatically blurted out without giving it thought.

She gave me a smirked and replied back, "You'll just have to find out for yourself." My test watcher introduced herself as Johanna Mason, and the mocking tone she had in her voice turned out to be true; she always talked to people like she was better than them, a snobby gross sort of noise coming out of her nostrils every once in a while. She didn't have very good manners, and her dark brown hair was pulled back in a loose knot behind her head.

"I said sit," she repeated, and I had no other choice but to settle myself in what looked like a purple dentist chair.

"Seriously though," I chimed in, my voice dipping as I lowered my skull onto the headrest, "this isn't going to be hard, is it?"

"Give me another thirty seconds and your question will be answered."

Johanna started placing thick wires to my forehead with sticky tape, and the end of the shiny element from the periodic table was freezing on my skin. I didn't exactly know what they were for, but I asked no urging questions while she did her job. The tubes were connected to a large, beeping machine with strange shapes and patterns lining the static screen.

"Alright, you're all hooked up." She turned her back on me to grab something I couldn't see off a nearby desk. "Ready?" she questioned, holding up a tiny glass vial filled with clear liquid in front of my face.

"Not exactly," I responded, sitting up and pushing a wire to the side so I could see properly without it blocking my view of vision.

"Well, as soon as you swallow this you better be prepared." She handed over the container with a glare on her pupils. O gave her a look of overwhelming distress as I unscrewed the cork on the bottle.

Johanna rolled her eyes. "Whenever you're ready," she taunted impatiently.

Breathing deeply, I exhaled before tipping the cylinder back and feeling the sticky contents of the container slide down my throat. I got one last blurred look at my instructor's face before the yellow light behind her faded and I fell into a world of darkness.

When I peeled opened my eyes, or so I thought, I found myself stranded on a tiny island about a thousand feet from the nearest shoreline. Huge waves crashed into the side of the rock I was standing on, and foamy bubbles formed on the surface of the water folding over itself.

"You have got to be kidding me," I mumbled, trying to keep my balance on the slippery surface with my flat-soled sneakers. Well, it was do or die. Perhaps there was some way to build a raft out of the only thing available, but I didn't bother to work it out. There were only two solutions; either stay and starve eventually or try and swim to the beach.

But I was never a great swimmer. I never learned how to swim as a kid. Well, there was only one way to find out if I would survive. Pushing my hands together, one on top of the other like I'd seen so many people do before, I inhaled the fiercest breath I could muster and then took a swan dive into the ocean.

I should have tested the water before I jumped. The temperature was so cold I thought I would freeze on impact, but instead the liquid just stabbed like knives as it tried to bite my skin off. The blonde locks on my head broke the surface of the waves, and I was able to regain air into my lungs and gather where I was. Straight ahead was the nearest bit of land, and my arms groped for it as I swam away with stroking motions, doing my best to imitate what professionals would do.

It may not have been a really long distance, but it seemed like it for my height. My sweeping gestures with my arms made me closer and closer to the beach, and I began urging myself on about halfway on.

"Come on," I shuttered through chattering teeth. I think my muscles were ceasing to function and I was being pulled under the tide. _I'm going to drown_, I thought, just as my head ducked under the biggest wave I had ever seen. My lungs were filled with fluids, not oxygen. Maybe I would develop some absurd form of cancer after nearly drowning to death.

Somehow while in my midst of anxiety, I must have encountered the age of the sea. My open-palmed hands found the wet, mucky substance of sand, and I grabbed on with such strength to haul myself onto the beach as the final tide brushed away.

Seriously, what kind of test were these people thinking of?

This time, another wave came to greet me as I thought my task was done, which it was, but this time it was just a large cloud of black. Everything went foggy as the scene changed, and when I was forced to open my eyes again, I was in a completely different place.

Some sort of forest surrounds me, the leaves on the trees casting a gloomy shadow over the land I am standing on. It's night time, and I seem to be glued to a spot in a large ditch below a circle of property above me. The ground is covered with thick fog and I can't see my own feet.

I feel a lump in my pocket and shove my hand in to extract a flashlight. What good will that do me? I flick it on anyways and spot something shiny in the short, crusty grass just to my right. I have to kneel and put my nose up close in order to really see it.

It's a knife. A pocketknife, but sharp nonetheless as I fling it open. The one thing I didn't notice until I had started to stand up was what the weapon was lying in.

A huge, dent in the ground, the outline had taken the shape of what looked like a dog paw print. More like a footprint on steroids. It was at least a foot long, and the claw were so sharp they made scratch marks in the dirt. Where this dog was I had no idea, but my wondering thought was interrupted when a long, low growl came from over my head.

Flaming red eyes, cold black fur, and teeth as sharp as fangs glared at me. I didn't want to use the knife. I didn't want to use any sort of weapon. But in all fairness, that was my only option. This monstrous hound would surely bolt at me if stayed still, and I kinda preferred not to die in my test; it would probably show a sign of weakness. There was absolutely no way I could train it or make it not harm me, and so as the dog bounded down the hill in the hollow to charge me, my hand had seized the handle of the knife.

I let it fly without much considering in my brain. I assumed it hit the intended target because the scene started to be swept clean again. I had no intention of hurting the dog, and I certainly didn't want to hear the pathetic squeak it let off when the blade had wounded its ribs.

Now it seemed my inner vision had been blinded as I knew the sun was in my final exam. I had to squint in order to see where I was, and from what I pieced together it was a long, open field mixed with dead grass and sand. A drought had definitely struck here once, as I began to sweat the instant my body awoke from the previous simulation.

I stood in front of a hip-high wall made if rusty brick and was staring into nothing. Not a sign of life but me was around, but that deduction was blown away as I heard an explosion rip through the silence I was so pleasantly enjoying.

I threw myself to the ground in an attempt to save my life, and when I raised my head I saw the biggest cloud of ash and smoke I'd ever seen. One single Army soldier was running straight towards me, and I searched with my eyes for something that could defend my life.

The nearest weapon to me was a gun about twenty feet away, and if I didn't start sprinting soon the other enemy would surely reach it first. I'd rather use an unknown object than have my life killed when I didn't take a stance in the world.

As fast as my legs could muster, I began to run through the desert heat, puffs of sand dust coming up in bubbles beneath my feet. The man was easily a hundred pounds stronger than me, but I wasn't going to let that stranger tackle me.

I got there first. But instead of fastening the gun over my shoulder, I picked it up and threw it as far away from us as possible. The random guy seemed so confused and bewildered that he just stood and watched me. The weapon flew through the air and land behind the short brick wall, hidden and out of site.

When we both heard the clang sound, the adult was so outraged he lunged right for my legs. I dodged, and I knew in that moment my only defense weapon was my body. I clumped my hand into a fist and aimed a punch at his muscular face, only it missed and I punched the ground instead. He rolled over and ducked, and I found my nostrils suddenly swarmed full with hot blood. He'd nailed me first, but I wouldn't give up till he made me.

I kicked him hard in the chest from my uncomfortable position on the grass, sand pressed into my blonde hair while I wriggled around in a panic. He merely gave off a grunt and stood up to face me. He was at least a foot taller, but I had a stocky build for my age.

We were locked arm in arm with our shoulders fighting to pin each other to the earth, and I knew I had no match against this soldier. My knee found his thigh and he collapsed a little, and one more swift thrust with my elbow knocked the senses out of him. His body went timber and fell down like a ragdoll, and I suddenly began to criticize myself before the battlefield started to fade away from me.

_I just injured someone. I did serious harm to another human being. Why? Why would I do that? _

My eyes snapped open and the familiar empty office came into a sharp view, Johanna Mason sitting by my side and observing every move I made. She just sort of seemed pleased when I came back to the real world and, I hope, successfully completed my test.

"What the hell was that?" I spat out, not caring what words flew from my mouth as I gently removed the wires from my head and cast them aside. I didn't care if my results were screwed up because of it.

Johanna gave me a look like I was kidding. "What do you think? she asked sarcastically.

"_That _was the test? Who came up with that?"

"I don't know the origination of the aptitude -"

"Someone who honestly hates teenagers," I replied before she could. I was breathing way too heavily and my emotions from the simulation must have drifted into the real world, because I could feel large patches of water on my shirt from where I had been sweating.

"Whatever, just shut up." I was slightly taken aback by her rude statement but stared at her with my alarmed blue eyes without saying a word.

"Now, you know you're not supposed to share your test results with anyone, right?" I could tell she desperately wanted to give me a lecture.

"Yes. I won't tell anyone. I really don't want to hear anything else about these horrible things."

Johanna chuckled and I raised my eyebrow at her. "Well if it's any constellation, your results have been calculated."

I stared at her. Just blankly. She didn't continue until she thought the quiet was just too much to bear any longer. "It was a little tight race between two factions at first, but one pulled away in the end and there is one that specifically suits you."

More silence.

"And that is...?"

She let the boring tension sink in before she announced the faction name. "Your results proved you to be placed in Dauntless."


	3. Takeoff

**The Fault In Our Factions (Chapter 3)**

Takeoff

* * *

><p>"Hey John, wait up!" I try to drown out the voice as I'm walking along a pathway steadily, rolling the results of my test over in my head. I don't intend to be rude so I swivel around nonetheless to find my friend Mike Stamford jogging towards me. Earlier that year he had a bit more mass around the stomach area, but I guess he somehow worked it off because he's only a little pudgier than myself.<p>

"Hello Mike," I say in return, and from the unusual address he can tell something is wrong by the presence of my face.

"So how did it go?" Go figure, I knew someone would bring the subject to be the main topic.

I sort of sigh heavily and continue walking, my attention staring at the pavement beneath my feet. Riding the bus home would not have been a smooth move after I found my results. "I really don't want to talk about the test," I mumble, and he stops before skipping to meet up with me once more as I sort of become annoyed.

"Why not?" He's forcing an answer out of me and I speed up a little faster.

"We're not supposed to anyways," I fire back.

I suddenly find Mike grabbing the sleeve of my shirt, and I look bewildered at him when his muscular arm intensely causes me to stare him directly in the eyes. "You didn't get an undecided answer, did you?" Maybe I did. Maybe my instructor was lying to me and that's why she intended for me to listen closely and ignored all the questions I asked.

But from what Johanna told me, I didn't think she'd fake telling me my test results. "No!" I blurt almost immediately, pretending to single out the concerned frown that made up his complexion.

"Then why won't you tell me what happened? Come on man," and I hated it when he called me that, "I'm your best friend. It's not like I'm going to spill the beans to anyone." He really was a true Amity citizen; finding peace for everyone and making sure they were happy, but he could pressure me in some situations.

My eyes rolled backwards as I glanced up at the sky and knew I wasn't going to get out of his complexity until I gave in or was clever. "I'm not going to share my results with you, so stop bugging me." I felt bad being such a jerk, but it was my own personal business and he didn't need to know.

"You're not telling me something!" he yelled back, several meters away after I'd strolled on further towards home. I turned back around, straining to keep my composure together while he urged on. "I'll let you know mine so we're fair."

I made a noise in a ridiculous manner while pressing my lips together. "Everyone knows you got Amity, Mike. You're like the role model of our faction."

"But why won't you tell me yours?"

I took three steps, more like strides before I was in his face. Not in anger, but in fixation. I wanted him to look at me and nothing else. "You want to know?" I asked, easing my eyebrows and slightly dipping ny head. He undoubtedly wanted to.

But I didn't flat out say it to his face. Instead I kind of grinned and remarked, "If you want to know, you'll see tomorrow."

* * *

><p>Dinner that night was uneventful. Even my parents didn't bother to ask what happened in school. All of us, my older sister Harriet included, sat around the dining room table saying not a peep, but after we'd gotten halfway through eating, my confident father decided to speak up.<p>

"You had the aptitude tests today, right?"

I swallowed a lump of asparagus in the depths of my throat. I'm a vegetarian, so if I choose a faction that eats pounds of meat, I'm screwed.

"Yeah," I just say casually.

"How did it go?"

"I'm not saying a word." I'd repeated that phrase millions of times that day, but no one seemed to get the idea that I didn't want to talk about it.

"Why not?" I looked up at him to my left. He seemed rather appalled, or perhaps ticked off was the proper word. I gave him the most defiant glare I could muster.

And then to my astonishment, I mocked all the teachers and the instructions they'd given us. "Because we're not supposed to share anything about them."

"I don't care about your results, I just want to know how the overall experience was." Dad always had a way of wording things more precisely than needed. I sometimes think he grew up in Erudite as opposed to Dauntless. My mum came from Abnegation. Harriet snorted from across the table, her mouth full of mashed potatoes.

"Well, if you desperately want to know, I'd say it was disturbing."

"Disturbing?" My mother now joined the fray in our conversation. "How so?"

"To my mind," I input, and I get up from my chair to be excused and remain alone in my room.

Considering my test results was one of the worst things in the world. I just lay on my bed and kept debating the different faction qualities. Twice I found myself staying right where I was raised in Amity, but then I could go either way my mother and father did.

I eventually just gave up and dropped the mind battle, sinking into a glorious sleep that I didn't know that night would be my last one in my comfy bed.

* * *

><p>Nothing gutted me more at dawn that the feeling of staring down upon my perfectly made bed. To leave everything behind, wipe memories away like they're an old rag, it ached. I wore my best red v-neck shirt and a pair of tight jeans, flattening my hair to the best fashion it could present. The watch my father gave me, I wouldn't need that where I was going.<p>

Debate takes time, but boy does it matter.

I rotate on my heels to find direct eye contact with my reflection. A skinny teenager, no more, just looking for the true personality deep within inside his heart. I really shouldn't be staring at myself, but I guess I'll never see my face in the same Amity peaceful light ever again.

My breakfast tasted soggy and salty. I couldn't swallow its contents and I was sent off to the Choosing Ceremony still arguing in my mind.

_You know its right to stay here. To not leave Amity and remain loyal is the most positive outcome, but I belong somewhere else is the point._ My knees wobble as I struggle to walk among a crowd of other sixteen-year-olds, all of who are preparing to identify their destiny today. My parents will arrive a few minutes later with Harriet, burning my reputation while they watch me select a faction.

The room we all sit in has a domed ceiling with curved benches all around. On the only flat wall, standing before the audience on a raised platform are five bowls, each containing elements related to the factions. It's incredible to see all the different groups of people gathered in specific regions, wearing the Abnegation, Amity, Candor, Dauntless, and Erudite colors. It's like a wave of tints of red, yellow, grey, blue, black, and white. No one has green on, which I find odd because the human eye can actually see more shades of green than any other color.

I am seated just to the left of the center isle with my mom by my side, listening to the sounds of chaos all around as people are babbling with curiosity. She just takes my hand as I shake in a petrified stance, and I nod and give a gentle smile.

"Attention." The president of our society has entered the stage with a binder in his arms, white beard and hair fluffy as he's dressed in his best suit. President Snow.

I despise him with every inch of my soul, along with over half of the city's population. His voice is the tone of death and he smells overpoweringly of blood red roses. And then he speaks and addresses us to begin the long, tedious event.

"Welcome to the Choosing Ceremony. We're all pleased to have you here, planning to select your rightful place. The future belongs to those who know where they belong." I cringe and my muscles tighten.

"So, without further ado, let the choosing begin." He smiles wickedly and opens his notes, holding a list of names that belong to the sixteen-year-olds in the room. Because we're going in alphabetical order, I will be one of the last to go.

People's titles ring in and out of my hearing as I find a beeping entering my right ear. My sister looks down the row at me, nodding as if to say 'you know what to do.'

"Phillip Anderson." A Candor initiate who stayed loyal to his faction. The kids in black and white cheered as he descended from the stairs and joined the rest of his crew.

"Sally Donovan." Wearing tight, black clothing from the Dauntless faction, her frizzy hair blocked the view of everyone until Snow announced to the theater, "Candor."

The list of names went on and on, and I only took interest in some people I thought had meaning in their faces. One girl particularly caught my eyes; she was actually the same one I ran into at school the other day with the cool braided hair style.

"Katniss Everdeen." The president made a sort of tickling gesture when he read her name, like he wanted to get revenge from her. A really pretty girl in a sky blue shirt with dark tinted jeans went up in front of the crowd, her hair still in the same manner. She stood before the bowls on the tables for quite some time before her hand rested over the darkest bowl.

President Snow delightedly spoke for everyone to process her decision. "Dauntless."

Again, after I followed her with my eyes, I lost the ability to consider anyone else's ideas. But another human caught my attention from the way he held himself in posture. A tall boy with curls in his brunette hair, walking like he ruled the world. But his choice was inevitable and he placed his hand over the faction he most belonged in, the one he'd came from originally, and for some reason to because I could see it in his pupils.

"Sherlock Holmes. Erudite."

"Molly Hooper." A female with ginger hair who was in my faction, which I didn't know, went to Abnegation. A selfless human who wanted to protect others. Maybe that's what I was.

"Greg Lestrade." A Dauntless born initiate who swaggered onto the stage and transferred to Candor.

And then, a creature of the devil himself walked up in front of us all. I could see the fire in his irises, the hate in his veins, but the smirk on his face showed he would show no one any mercy. And the president was pleased when he shouted the name to the hall.

"Jim Moriarty." Where he got the dark black suit in Dauntless, I don't know. But he strolled before the crowd and made his choice in enlightenment. Another soldier who went to the smart minds of Erudite.

Another beautiful lady went up to make her choice, a Dauntless hero who switched over to…Abnegation? I couldn't believe my eyes. The big of a jump made me feel like she'd abandoned her rightful home for a traitor one. I knew the fighters of Dauntless never appreciated the dedicated humans of Abnegation. Mary Morstan. That was daringly brave strike she just performed in front of such a high risk space. There are shouts and boos from her original family members as she joined the sea of grey on the opposite side of the auditorium.

And before I knew it, the voice rang out to the audience that was my name. "John Watson." My jelly legs rose as I descended down the stairs and stood before the entire Choosing Ceremony group, placed between five bowls with objects in their depths. Stones for Abnegation, soil for Amity, glass for Candor, coals for Dauntless, and water for Erudite. The clear liquid is a rusty brown color from all the transfers, and I look up to see Snow holding a knife for me. I take it willingly, the handle a deep shade of forest.

The silver blade cuts into the skin on my palm, and I wince as blood trickles down my wrist. The pain prickles for just a moment and then dies, leaving me standing with a ripped hand. My arm fidgets between all of the containers. I am undecided; I don't know where to go.

But then I lock my eyes on my new destination and shift my hand over to the bowl on my right. My dripping blood falls over the sizzling coals, the same deep color of the redness of my cheeks.

From peaceful to brave. From Amity to Dauntless.

I made my decision. The uproar from my new family members blares in my ears as I drop the knife onto the floor at my feet.

I will never be the same from this moment forward.


End file.
